


Reversed Ending

by This_is_my_toenail_collection



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Choose Your Own Ending, M/M, Multiple Endings, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:33:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26031205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_is_my_toenail_collection/pseuds/This_is_my_toenail_collection
Summary: One of two ending choices for the story "A Little Birdy Told Me"
Relationships: Lucio (The Arcana)/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reversed Ending Unlocked!

"You should do it"

The words sound forign to him as he says them. They happen without his input. Bird simply nods once and it's all Lucio needs to break down.

"I...I'm sorry bird I'm so sorry, I wish it could be different" he swats the bird's comforting touches away from his face, instead reaching his arms around his love and pulling him close. Right into Lucios lap. He sobs openly on his bird's shoulder as more apologies fall from his lips. "If I'd just kept my distance you wouldn't be sick...and you wouldn't have to do this...I'm so– bird I'm sorry, so sorry. If I could change it…" 

The medic doesn't say anything, he just hums soothing songs into the count's hair. He knew this would be the answer, he has accepted.

"Now no more blaming yourself beloved, you could not have prevented this." Lucio looks to you like you're from heaven itself.

"Are…" he has to fight more tears to get his question out. "Are you sure? How can you be so calm?"

"I am sure" the bird responds easily. "I knew the second I heard that I could help. I knew I'd do it for you."

Lucio shakes his head slowly, disbelief written in every featuring of his face.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

"It's not about deserving, you stop that shit now." The bird scolds him suddenly but he just laughs a laugh that's half bitter and half hysterical.

"Is there anything you  _ wouldn't _ do for me?"

"No"

The silence is heavy following the sudden statement. Lucio breaks it with the question he's had since day one. The request Birdy had yet to fulfill.

"Would you please take that stupid mask off? You look like a bird."

Birdy is still for a very long time, he has no more worries about safety but he has another reason not to want the count to see his face.

He's sick.

His eyes are red and his skin is scaly crimson. He is a corpse walking and only getting worse by the hour. He doesn't want Lucio to remember him like that.

But he said he'd do anything, and it really was a simple request.

"Ok...but you have to close your eyes."

0

"I will." He agrees readily, letting his red eyes fall closed. If he didn't want to see your face why did he ask? Carefully you unclasp the mask from your face and let it clatter to the floor. Lucios hands come up to feel along your jawline. He traces your cheekbones and lips with both metal and skin. Seemingly finding what he wants he leans in quite suddenly, capturing your lips in his.

His kiss is practiced, the kiss of one who's had many kisses before. He winds an arm around your back and presses his eyes shut tighter. Lips moving expertly over yours and making your breathing falter. You have nowhere to go through his controlling ministrations, all you can do is let your eyes flutter shut and wait for him to release you.

When he finally does he comes away completely flushed, eyes still closed for the moment. Quickly you turn to retrieve your mask, fastening it back on before he can compose himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Your body wasn’t there.

All you could see was your shoes as you walked down the road. It was paved with perfect, clinically cut stone. The sun beat down as you walked, baking your skin and making you squint. As you walked you saw your shoes were not just visible, but they were your work shoes. Flat black Monk Strap shoes that stretched satisfyingly as your feet moved. They made little noise on the granite street you walked, and they left no marks. 

You don’t seem to be walking towards anything, accept the mountains looming in the distance. You see the broad peaks take up the entire stretch or horizon. Unavoidable unless you turn around. You can’t turn around, you realize. Your feet stop moving in your black work shoes but the polished path beneath you keeps moving. Like a pitching river it thrusts you forward, endlessly. 

The jolt of the floor's sudden movement jars you so much you fall to your hands and knees, watching the desolate landscape fly by. Why were you walking here? Was it to meet someone? You get the distinct feeling while you’re swept away by the landscape that someone’s supposed to be there. That you shouldn’t be here alone. Standing carefully you try to keep your balance on the moving path, you scan the horizon and find there are other branches to the strange road. 

All around you miles of stone paths branch and fan out in different directions, all of them stretching towards the distant mountains. Why was there no one else walking? Why were the mountains so foreboding in the distance? Where was the rest of your body. The heat from the sun soaks into your invisible body and broils you do your bones. Sweat breaks out on your nonexistent skin and drenches you in seconds. The very path seems to capture the intense heat and spit it back at you so you bake from all sides.

Where is your body?

_Where are you going?_

**_Why are you alone?_ **

**_Why are you alone?_ **

**_Why are you alone?_ **

**_W̴̧̡̧̛͚͖͖͎̥̗̹̗̫̘̘̻͕̫̥̮͈͎̰̰̪͓̰̮̰̥̠̻̞̭͍̓̌͌͒̎̆̓̔̔͒̽̊͌̿̓͑͑́͑̈́͂͌̎̓͑̑̓̐̍͂̊͂̆͆̑̃̅̉̆̿̇͋̔͑̌̑͆̍͋́̾̑̌̎̿̇̄͋́̐́̓̾̂͐̈̒̈̂̈́̌̃̑̈́̂̊̇̉͌̉̿͑͂͘̕̕̕̚̕͘͘͜͜͠͝͝͠͝ͅh̴̡̢̢̡̧̡̧̡̨̛̛̛̟̫͚͇͔̼̝͈͓̞̙̟͓̖̖͖͓͕̻̥̤̼͕͔̫̗̞̗̟̬͚̪͓̳̙̮͓̳͔̘͇̤̺̙̤̺͙̻͓͔͙̿̋͋͗̏̐̍̆̔͆̌̓̋̂̑̓̃́̓̈́̏͛̆̾͗͒̊̏̄͒͂̂̈́̈́̅̋̎͋̇̄͂̉̉͒̎̈́̇̏͐̅͛̎̈́͊̋̍͆̽͊̍̌͊̊͂̌̈́̎͋̔̈́͛͊̈̂͆̄͐͒̅͗͂̊̅̀̓̽̈́̽͛̉͌̾͊̑͐̍͑͊͂͂̈́͑́̏͗̂͗̀̍̑̓̔͐̓̉̌͘͘͝͠͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͝ͅỵ̴̢̢̡̨̢̢̨̧̧̡̢̧̡̨̛͓̞̺̹̟̦̙̘̹͔̼̹̪̲̼̱̺̤̜͎̘͍̰̘̪͍̻̘̥̜̝͚̤̙͍̤̠̤̙̩͎̭̰͉̪̩̹̮̝̺̺̗̺͇̘͈͖̙̞̟̟̩͖͈̥̝͚͎̹̘̬͎̺̤͔͖̦͎͚͉͎̠͖̬̣̗̱̥̦͎͓̙̤̳͍̫̻̟̠̗̼̖̹͚̘̠̻͔̫̝̳̰͇̥͉̺̗͚̝̅͑̓̈́̎̐̑͋͌̀͑͗̐͑̀̓̔̒͐̈̇̾́͋͋͋̈́̂̈̌̎̍̓͛̿͑̌͗̇̅̾͂̚̚̕̕̕͘͘̕͜͜͜͝͠͠͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅ ̴̢̨̛͉̫̹̟̺͙͉̣̜̩̣̳̤̠̣͚̮̆̽̾͌͗̌͒̌̅͐̍̍̐̿̿̀̈̑͒̎̉̈́̊̈̾͗̔̽͑̓͆̈́͘̚͜ȧ̷̧̨̧̩͚͙̙̗̜̮͙͍͚͉̦̬̙̮̼̤̯͓͍̩͔̟̦̺͎̳̗̱̭͓̤̞̜̦̞̩̹͓͍̙̣̫̥̫̾̽́̎̓͑͌̏̓́̀̅̄̆̒͋̈͌̎̒̓̂̈͒̍͆̌͑́̀̉̈́̂͛̾͋͊̑̈̽̈́̐̇͑̄̉̽͗̊̄̈́̿̇̕̚͘̕͘͠͝͝͠͝ͅr̵̨̢̢̧̡̨̧̛̛̛̛̰̘͙͙̭͚̪̝̼̤̙̝͉̹̮̩̙̫̘͎͓͍̹̰̜̰̻̞̲̤̬̭̦̳̘̪̱͖͚̳͈͕̥̻̟̫̙̗̩̺̩̤̭̻̞̜͈̦̭̟̟̠̩̪̮̖̙̞̫̞̲̟̺̖̤̗̥̭̰̘̣͗̂̃̀̽͛̍̇̑̓͊̓͛͆͒̂͗̓̽̆͐̑̊̇̌̌̎̆̿͌̀̃̐̅͂̊̎̔́̈́̉͗̆͗̏̀̿̃͊̉͐͌̃̐͂̋̂̒͑̆̽̐͑̊̊̑̉͌̽́͛̿͂̑͂̃͆̏̎̈̄̋̌̇̈́̿͐͑̈̄̉̌̌͋̅̅̎̿̓̉̒̍̎̐̏͛̌̽͐͂̒͂̒͘̚̕̚̚̚͜͜͠͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͠͝͝͠ͅͅę̴̨͚̩̼̹̞̯̳͖̳̣̣̯̭̱̪̫̙͈͚̦͔̯̘͙̰̼̤͈̼͍̥̝̠̱̪͓̫͆͊͐̾͋̐͋͐̄̌̾̋̍̊͊̚͜͜͜͝ͅ ̷̛̛̛͙͕̝̙̤̣̼͓͔͚̗͓͉̙̅̎̄͌̇̎̒́̽̂̓̃̍̉̍͋͌̄̉̚͜͝ŷ̶̲͔͍̙̯̥̬̫̒̈́̽͂̂̊̄̍̿̅̈́͆̓͆̎̂̊̈́̈͑̒̒͌̉̊̐̀̒̿̑͋̉̇͗͊͌̋͊͛̀͆͗̎̈́̾̌̃̇̅̈́̈́͆́̇̂̀̋̄͗́͋̄̊̆͋̿͌̌̉̄̐͋͆͊̀͆͆͘̚͘͘͘͜͝͝͝͠͝͠͠ȍ̵̢̡̨̢̧̢̡̧̨̡̢̡̺͚̥̘̟͕̺̜̗͍͙̗̼͕̭͎̞̝̼̖̝͍̫̺̬̣̱̦̟̞̝̮͈̪̜̰͕̗̼̤̭̥̙̳̫̬̼̰̙̦̰̰͙͚̲̟̤͈̠̪̭͓͚̘͉͈̭̠̝̼̼͚̠̹̦͈̼̭̲̬̻̥̘͇̲̜͍̜͕̠̹͉͈̟̥̳͍̠̦̝̣̥͕͇̼͙̳̗̝̥̘̘̫̩̱̖͍̙͚̮͕̜̽͒͒͐̾̈͂́́͐̎͗̍̿̓̒̆̅̇̂̌̀̓̕͝͠͠͝ͅų̸̢̢̢̨̢̡̢̨̧̡̢̧̡̡̡̨̙̣̖̱̙̳̤̩̼͚̙̙͙̫͍̞͇̠̘̦͈̞̘͓͎͔̼̠̳̖̘̼̜̖͇̻̣̱̥͔̮̯̝̝̦̯̰̪͕͔͍̳̺̫̖̺͉̘̣̘͔̺̲̤̥͖͈͖̱̜̩̗̖̮͙̲͔͔̰̦͔̥̩̹͇͙̟̠̥̟͈̱̟̥̠͇̝͔̼̯͇̻̣̩̯̮̱̳̱͍̣̻̪̫̪̙̋̓̽̎̄̓̆̄̇̀̊͆̌̎͋̑͗̿̀̆̐̐̌͌̀͗̽́̚͜͜͠͝ͅ ̷̡͖̻͍͓̮̺͔͍͓̬̖̼͍̙̘̹͚͐̈́̏̈́̓͗̑͆́̾͌̂̿̑̌̆͆͒̓͌͆͗̓̈́͑̎͊͐̀̀̾̿̈̿͑̂͒̆̉͘͘͠͝a̵̛̛̮̪̞̠͖̙̗͚̣̞̝̤͕͚͇̥̞̍͐̄̽͌͌̒̔̂̾̎̀̑̒͛͐͌͛̔̈́́̓̎̄͒̆̿͂̀͌̎̇͐̐̔̇̏͌͑̉͊͒̈́̃̔̾̾̄̿̔̽̉̍̉̽͋́̈́͛̏̅͛͛̂̆͌̓͂̈́̑͊̔̋̔̓̂̆̈́̈́̃͂̍̑̌̀̑͆͊̀̓̏̽̋̋̓̒̔̒͆̈́̃̔̐̎͊͆͋͛̅̓̏̿̋̚͘͘̚̕͘̕̚͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͠͝l̴̢̡̡̢̢̡̧̢̛̛̺̹̙̪̦̳͕̬̟̺̘̙̳̦̱͍͚͎̹̜̮̮̘̺͖̫̗̣̤͙̞̳̗̞̠̙͓͍̱̯̲̬͖̹̣̼͎̖̩̜̼̙̣͍̹̞͎̱̗̖͉̘̫̥͚̻̦̠͖̮̲͍̫̤͔͔̲̖̯̫̙̲̮͕͉̳̠̻̲̻͔͚͎͔̭̣͎̖̼̼̹̭̪̣͖̙̯͖̰͔͖̤̰̗̇̐̔̅̐̍̈́̾̅̏̈́̄̿̊̾̃͋̑̃̎͛̂͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͠ͅͅͅò̵̢̢̢̨̨̡̡̧̡̢̡̢̡͕̭̠̳͓͖̮̖̟̘͉̠̯̦̯̹̮͚̘̬̖͖̺̖͙̼̩͍̻̫̪͈̙͍̰̩̣̟̰̼̬͕̞̲͖̈́̍͌͒̉͂̀̅͊̇̎̋͒̓͂̎͑͑̈́͗̂̿̕̕͜ͅn̷̡̨̡̨̡̡̨̧̡̛̲̝͎̱̳̗͕͖̻̩̤̩͙͎̜̲̥̦̺̲͙̭̪͇̝͉̮̳͇̫̩͖̹̘̱̪̲̖̟̺̹̤͎̬̺̣̮̗̟̳͎̖͚̳̻̰̝̲̫̪͎̮͍͓̝͙̼̲̙͓͓̺̦̼̣̠̘̣͖͖̦̯̟̝͚̮̖̥̹̹̗̻̠͚̮̤͙̖̩͈͙͙͓̱̞͕̺̱̬̰̟͔͎͈͈̼̭̙̭̻̻͎̦̱̪͈̞̰̈̉̂͒͛͑̏̀͐͛̓̇̊̾̇̊̇̂͛͗̂̽́̓́͆̈́̐̐̏̋͒̔̑͌̈͊̌̽̒͆̂̀͆͑͑̋̔͒̈͛͋̔̆͌̌͒̒̓̌̇̃̔͒̔͑̐̿̒̊͌̍͋͌̑̌͊̋̑̅͑͊̇́́͌̎͊̌̎͑͑͑͊̑̕͘͘͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅę̴̨̡̢̨̡̡̨̨̛̛̛̛̛̛̟͙͚̦͔̖̼͓̙͔͉͉̱̬͓̳͍͉̝͔͎͉͕͇̲̱̲͙̗̰̜̺͉̖͚̪̠͍̮͕̹͚͔̤̘̻̝͕͚͓̫͓̯̟̜̻̞̥̙̙̙̺̤̻̫̪͎͓͓̹̙̤̆͗̑̀̆͒̐͐̌̽͆͗̐͌̊̅̈͆͂̑̀͒̈͆͆͐́́͊̈́̆͆̌̃͌̂̊͗͗̽̅̈́̓͂͌͛̓̂̈́̀̐̀͐͌̀̾̍̊̄̉͐̍͗͒͋̅̏̎̄̌͊̔̓̈́̂̾͛͑̉̓͊̂͆͒̽̌̋̕̚̕̚̚͘͘͘͘͘̕͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͠͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅ?̸̧̡̡̢̢̢̡̧̨̧̨̡̛̛͇̼̦̙̫̤̼̻̟̰̻̲̬̫̞̻̱̟̥͈͉̱͙̮͚̰̬̹̜͉͍̖̭͙̳͎̬̱̠̯͍͓̻͎̳͔̺͚̞͈̝̱̜̩̘̫͎̹̞̱̠̜͍̣̝̳̥̥̘͕̗͚͙̜͇͎͓̱͉͔̩̣͍̦͈̤͈̮̺̤͇̺͙̈͂͐͌̓̄̄̽͊͊̀̏̆͒̂͐͋̌̊͌́̓̅̇̃̓̉̓̇̽̿̓̐̋̎͋̎̿͋͌͗̇̉̅͂̄̏̓͌̀̃͋̈́̏̈̉̏͑͑̃̆͒̓͐̒̊̓̀̐̾̇̓̊͑̈́̈͒̑̉̈̆͗̍̌̏̅̊̒̈́͛̊̉̋̇̀̾̿̓̋͐̒͛̈́̌͐̃͒͆̋̚̕͘͘̕̚͘̕̚͘͜͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅ_ **   
  
  
  
  


Hot!

The mountain and the road is gone but the heat remains, you’re burning, _you’re burning alive_ as you sit up stock straight in bed. The reality of where you are takes several minutes to come to you as you look around the dim room. Your skin is drenched and within moments you’re _freezing._ Your whole body chatters in cold and fear. Out of the corner of your eye your mind makes out the only person who could comfort you. You stare in near shock as your lover mouths something to you.

You can’t make it out in the dark, why was he so quiet?

You sit for a moment trying to understand what he said. Again he mouths something you can’t hear, a terrifying notion grips you.

He’s speaking normally, You just can’t hear him.

Your stomach flips upside down, you can’t hear anything. Is there something in your ears? There has to be something in your ears, something you can remove and fix it. Your fingers dig uselessly at your ear canals but you can’t even hear that. Trembling harder, tears beginning to run down your cheeks you try and speak.

"I...c–can't, why can't I–I–I hear yo–u" You can hardly make out your own voice. The violent trembling of your jaw makes it nearly impossible to form words. It couldn’t be, It couldn’t be true. The fever couldn’t have grown so bad. You drop your head to the sheets and dig harder into your ears, trying to stimulate something. To _hear_ something.

Suddenly hands are on yours, stopping your abuse. They pry your arms apart and force you to look up.

"Lu– I–I–m sca–red, can't h–ear can–nt h–ear you" You can’t even tell if you said the sentence right. Lucio scoops you into a hug and for a moment you want to protest, But the hands rubbing along your back help ground you and the vibrations of his metal fingers drumming on your skin almost seem like sound. You relax almost immediately, too exhausted from your panic.

Lucio bustles about for a bit, but you can’t find the energy to pay attention. After a while he gives you a book with some writing on the blank first page.

‘Stai hear I will f ~~i y~~ ind help’

You almost forget your terrifying predicament as you read the shotty attempt at a sentence. You really did love this man, he tried to write for you. You nod and he practically sags in relief before limping towards the door.

Wait, the door? He’s going to find help. He’s leaving you alone. 

Panic rises in your chest again and you can’t breath. You need him there, if he left you alone you could lose more to the fever and he’d never know. You could go blind or stop breathing and he’d never be back in time. You’d never see him again.

You sobbed at the thought, there alone in his room. He couldn’t leave you alone, why were you alone? Where was your body?

Apparently in the battle between fear and exhaustion, exhaustion won out. You woke seemingly minutes later to the sound of the door opening again.

You expected Lucio but instead were greeted by one of your fellow doctors. Without being able to hear their voice it was impossible to determine who it was, but relief filled you regardless. A doctor would know how to help, they could make it better. Your fear returned slightly at noting Lucio was still not back, and though he did get help he was nowhere in sight.

As soon as the doctor spotted you they seemed to rush to your side, throwing the covers off you and urging you to sit up. Behind their mask you couldn’t even attempt to read their lips, so you had no way of knowing if they were speaking to you. They looked at you oddly for several minutes before seeming to notice the quill Lucio must’ve been using before. 

Taking it they scratch out a quick message on the same book.

‘Can you hear me?’

Shaking your head they drop the book entirely, staring at you again. With careful hands they brush your hair aside and examine your ears. Their gloved fingers are strangely careful as they examine the inner ear and feel your impressive temperature. They stare again for a long moment before stiffly bending down to pick up the book. They scratch one a couple words onto the book and stare down at it for a moment before showing it to you.

“I’m sorry”

For the fever? For the deafness? You don’t get a chance to ask as Lucio practically falls into the room he’s so exhausted.

You can only stare at the floor through your relief at seeing him back. Your eyes droop at the sudden weight being lifted and you find yourself dosing as you sit there. Lucio sit’s down beside you and strikes up an awfully begrudging-looking conversation with the doctor. Your last sight of the interaction is the doctor digging through your bag for something as Lucio gets more and more irritated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment so I know people are reading


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #HUGE GORE AND BODY HORROR WARNING#
> 
> MC gets cut open friends, don't read If you're not prepared.

When you woke you were cold, but no longer sweating. Your blankets were gone and your fever seemed to have broken.

You survived the night.

More accurately, Lucio helped you survive the night. You don't remember much after falling asleep but you know you wouldn't be here if Lucio had done nothing. He still sleeps beside you, one arm thrown over you so he wakes up when you move. You watch him sleep for a moment before carefully extracting yourself from his grasp.

You're better now, but everything is distant. The world is dull and soundless and you know something. Deep down in your gut you know you won't last another night. Your head is spinning and your mind is numb, shutting down, preparing for the end. You cast one last look at your lover as he sleeps, he tried so hard to keep you alive.

His illness had hardly changed since you met him, he'd probably live a good while after you're gone. He tried so hard to take care of you. Ironic how the rolls reverse since you first were assigned to him.

You can't let him see you leave, you know he'll beg for you to stay. He always does. If he asks for you to stay you know you won't be able to say no. Unfastening your mask you look at him properly. His face is so tense with worry, even while sleeping. Absently you realize...this is the first time you've tasted fresh air in almost a year. The morning breeze blows calmly through the open window, it tempts you. 

Pressing one last kiss to your lover's temple you take your leave. Not bothering to pick up your mask.

You aren't sad when you go, you can't feel anything until you see the Quaestor waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. They stand in front of the lift expectantly. They say something you don't hear and you just stay silent.

Fear grips you as you are led into the lift, down the agonizing long ride to the facility for the final time. Valdemar examines you on the way, hands measuring and tools prodding. They know you can't hear them. They don't stop speaking as if you can, but they're one of the best doctors in the world. There's no way they haven't caught on, especially after they examined your ears like that. 

They're just mocking you.

You reach the facility floor and are led by your arm through the cacophony. It's a sinking, terrifying difference to walk through such a loud and revolting place without hearing a single sound of it. You can feel the sound, feel the oppressive weight of the noise and the terror. You're led through it all to Valdemar's chambers, a place you never thought you'd be so often. 

The oppressive impression of noise dies the second the door is closed.

Now it is still. The room is unnaturally still as Valdemar clips slowly across the floor to their private examination table. You know you're meant to follow but you stop short. You're sure you can do this for Lucio but...a thought grips you. The last thing you heard Valdemar say.

Your mind recreates that night, the terrified fleeing from death on your heels. The momentary reprieve of reaching your lovers room. The silent trembling as you hid under the bed. And Valdemar's voice...they said "if he came here to seek your opinion on the matter then I'll see him again regardless."

Had...had Valdemar known you'd be back here? Did they know Lucio would tell you to do this? 

Why else would they have not taken you back that night? Why else would they have waited for you at the lift?

The crocodile smile spread across their face made you shiver once more, they knew all along you were too devoted to truly run. They'd known Lucio would want to live at any expense. Your gut twists in horror as you understand that they had you both pegged all along. Through it all you and Lucio had learned nothing.

And it brought you here.

You walk stiffly to the examination table and lie down. It's not as if you have a choice, you gave up your choices the moment you gave the decision to the count. And even though you know it means you haven't learned, you also know you'd do it again. The path you're on moves without you as the Quaestor fastens straps to your arms and legs.

You're much sicker than Lucio, what if the plague wasn't the same? You knew as well as any that finding a cure this way had slim to no chances of success. Are you strong for being here? Or were you just too weak to make the choice yourself? So you gave it to a man still learning what consequences are. A man who knew nothing but how to sacrifice people.

Tears pricked your eyes as the spiral of thoughts continued. Your resolve never waivered because it was never resolve, it was resignation.

_Gasp!_

The reflex is involuntary as the scalpel finally breaks the skin, the marks the Quaestor drew were guidelines for their incisions. They slice down your arm, separating the flesh with clean red ribbons. You try not to watch but feeling the cold metal of the blade was almost harder. 

Was this pain really dedication? Or was it all just ignorance? Would things be different if you had made the choice yourself? You chose to work in the facility and you chose to keep returning to Lucio but this…this was no longer your choice. 

The skin is peeled away from your arm and tacked to the table to keep it out of the way. The Quaestor wastes no time prodding the muscles and separating them from the bone. They smile gleefully and write many things as they work. You wish you could hear what they're saying, you wish you could know that this is worth it.

They move on to your leg after seemingly hours of this torment, cutting your pants without a care. You've long since run out of screams, though you didn't hear a single one. The scalpel slices the new flesh and all the tolerance you'd build goes out the window. The thicker skin takes two passes with the blade to cut cleanly. They pin it down and get back to work, prodding your calf muscle and stretching the veins away from your body. Laying them out like rivers on the table and letting them bleed. You've lost feeling completely in both limbs they've hacked.

Your body is cold, so cold.

This isn't love, you can't express love through suffering. Your lungs cough only wheezes as you try to cry or scream. You can't move and the Quaestor hasn't learned anything they don't already know.

Your leg properly flayed, they move to your torso. Carefully removing your tunic and prodding at your skin with their fingers. Checking the thickness of the skin. You close your eyes as they slice again, one long strip from between your collarbones to your navel. They pass the scalpel three times before the skin opens. They need two hands to pull the flesh from your ribs and the blood loss makes you beyond dizzy. You can't see for a moment, only black in your vision as your blood pressure drops. Then slowly the world comes back to you in spots, just in time to see Valdemar remove the needle they just used from your skin.

Your heartbeat slows to a crawl and you almost puke from the nausea. They're trying to keep you alive as long as they can. The bleeding almost stops entirely.

With careful, slim fingers they trace the skin and fat they've pinned to the table. Writing something down they move to your...your…

Oh gods are those your lungs? You can see them expanding and contracting with your breath. Disturbing organs around them with sickening, ungulate lurches. They're coated in a thick red plaque and you shiver to think that's what causes the plagues coughing. Your heart is beating so slowly behind your ribs you think every beat will be the last. It expands farther than you expected, pushing the ribs out of your chest with every pulse.

The organs feel nothing as the Quaestor separates them from the torso. Setting aside your intestines on the table for further examination.

They've found nothing out of the ordinary, you haven't helped at all. 

Finally they slice at your jaw, the scalpel traces your chin and the delicate flesh only needs one pass. Your bleeding is slow, but still there. When those cold hands pull the skin away from your throat you see black again.

This time you don't come back.

[Epilogue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24958414/chapters/63452665)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the epilogue ;)
> 
> Please leave a comment so I know you're still here


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